


In the Moonlight

by red0aktree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Minor Angst, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red0aktree/pseuds/red0aktree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wasn't the immortal son of the goddess Nyx, or one of Heaven’s angels condemned to walk on Earth. </p><p>No, Sherlock was human. And John had felt the harsh devastation of his mortality, had seen his imminent death first-hand."</p><p>John reminisces his life with Sherlock during a quiet night in London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Moonlight

Sherlock looked absolutely brilliant in the moonlight. When surrounded by the cool, calm air and the foggy darkness of the sky, Sherlock was untouchable. It was hard for John to believe that Sherlock was, after all, only a human. He wasn’t the immortal son of the goddess Nyx, or one of Heaven’s angels condemned to walk on Earth.

No, Sherlock was human. And John had felt the harsh devastation of his mortality, had seen his imminent death first-hand.

As the pair walked through the empty London streets long after sunset, the tangy satisfaction of a case well solved still heavy on their tongues, John watched Sherlock with an admiration he was accustomed to feeling. It was reserved only for Sherlock. They didn’t speak much, Sherlock’s mind was still racing, his fingers twitching in pride over his own brilliance. John was thinking too, but not about the case.

He was thinking about how the light of the stars reflected obscurely in the whites of Sherlock’s eyes. And about how badly he hoped that the ebony curls at Sherlock’s temple’s would get a chance to turn grey. John was thinking about the way Sherlock’s lips felt against his own when they couldn’t sleep at night and how it was amazing how he could taste beauty when he kissed Sherlock

For a moment, the pair was illuminated by a streetlight, and John couldn’t help that think that even in the harsh, unnatural light of the lamp Sherlock looked elegant. Sherlock was the embodiment of grace and John was just an army doctor with a scarred shoulder and a dedication to the detective that would outlive the very Earth itself.

“Sherlock,” John began somberly, “Do you think you’ll ever get bored with me?”

Sherlock paused a moment, foot lifted mid-step, before recovering quickly and continuing his swift stride. “Of course not.” He spoke with conviction and John smiled a bit.

“But we aren’t alike. You’re the type of person they write books about, not me.”

Sherlock smiled and turned a furtive glance toward John, who was watching the sky, hands in his pockets.

“Ah, yes,” Sherlock shifted closer, slipping his hand into John pocket. “But what everyone must realize is that without you, there would be no me.”

John let out a small, slightly incredulous, breath at Sherlock’s admission. After all, it wasn’t everyday that the world’s most beautiful creature admits that you’re their everything. John let Sherlock innertwine their fingers, and basked in the honor of being loved by the remarkable Sherlock Holmes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Katie (shawtyimmaonlytellyouthisonce.tumblr.com) for being my beta on such short notice.


End file.
